Rain
by Shunyata Ryuen
Summary: Miaka's gone back to her world, and a stricken Tamahome has just left to find work for himself, leaving Hotohori and Nuriko alone at the palace. An angsty little Nuriko/Hotohori fic in progress.
1. Default Chapter

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is, quite possibly, the darkest, most angst-ridden romancy-fic I've ever written. What happens when lack of caffeine, a bad mood, and an attempt at a one-shot Hotohori/Nuriko fic come together? Read on, and discover the hideous truth! *collapses*  
  
---  
  
"Rain"  
by Ryuen  
  
  
[My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I  
Got out of bed at all  
The morning rain clouds up my window   
And I can't see at all  
And even if I could it'd all be grey]  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He sat silently in the dim, sparse light of his bed chambers, absently stirring the cool depths of his tea with a single index finger. He'd been staring blankly at the smooth glass of the window, but the torrents of rain washed down the clear panes, made it impossible to glimpse any sign of the outside world. He knew, of course, that if he moved close to the window, pressed his nose against it and peered out, that he'd catch a glimpse of the curving palace walkway, perhaps see a glimmer of the Imperial Gardens just over the hill...but, it hardly seemed worth the effort...not now. Not today.  
  
Sighing lightly and pressing the palm of his left hand against his cheek, Nuriko let his eyes close, spent a long moment listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain against the roof of the palace. Tamahome had left yesterday, tearing an unexpected hole in the recent comfort of his life...he hadn't realized how much he'd come to care for the younger seishi until he watched him climb wearily onto the back of that horse, ride off...leaving him alone.  
  
Alone with an emperor who didn't love him and a court who knew him only as a woman.  
  
Granted, not the most encouraging predicament...but, he was warm, comfortable, and was usually able to find things to occupy his attention. Keeping Tamahome from accidentally killing himself while reeling from Miaka's absence had taken a lot of his time over the past few weeks...but, now, he was forced to resort to tending the flowers he kept in the corner of his room, wandering the Imperial Gardens, or--and most frequently--just sleeping. He couldn't remember ever having slept so much in his entire life...but, it passed the time, made it easier to make it through the spare hours of waking.  
  
And...and, then there was Hotohori-sama.   
  
He hadn't seen the young emperor since the day of their return, almost three weeks ago...which meant, naturally, that either the other seishi was incredibly busy with the task of running the country...or else he was purposely avoiding him.  
  
//Not that I'd blame him,\\ he thought with a bitter half-smile. //I'd imagine it was kind of a shock, finding another man pretty enough to pass for a woman...\\  
  
Nuriko rose silently from the chair, realizing with a start just how suffocatingly-warm the air of his chambers had become... Suddenly longing for fresh air, he crossed the room, tugged open the door, and stepped out onto the palace walkway. A light mist of rain almost immediately soaked through the thin silk of his skirts, pressed the soft, smooth fabric tight against his chest and hips...but, that was all right. He smirked, briefly, a playful, boyish grin. No proper lady of fashion would ever be caught outside in a rain storm...so, he doubted he'd have much company to notice his lack of figure.  
  
Grabbing onto the skirts and taking a moment to tug the door closed behind him, Nuriko turned and began to walk, the cool touch of the rain on his skin soothing his nerves, making him feel more awake and alive than he had in weeks. Smiling slightly at the sudden exhiliaration, he quickened his steps, bounded down the nearby steps and began to run, kicking off his confining shoes as he moved. It felt wonderful, to just throw aside all his worries, all the tensions of his existence, and just run...run...the wind sliced into his flesh, swept the thick, tangled strands of violet hair back over his shoulders, freed them from the confines of their thick, golden clasp...   
  
His feet were getting muddied, catching up thin flecks of grass as he moved, but he didn't care...he didn't care...the breath surged in and out of his lungs, cool and clear and crisp, and the rain...it poured over his entire body, ran in rivulets over his cheeks, soaked him to the bone. By the time he came to an unsteady halt in the center of the garden, he was out of breath, exhausted, and absolutely soaked--the dress pressed uncomfortably against his flesh, sticky and cold, and he tugged at it reflexively, undid the top few buttons of the loose silken top until his chest lay bare and exposed, free and cool and perfect.  
  
Letting out a heavy sigh of fatigue and brief exhiliaration, Nuriko sank down onto a nearby marble bench, squeezed some of the water from his heavy sleeves with a welcoming "squish." Not that there was much point to it, anyway, as it was still raining...but, hey, it was something to do, at least.   
  
He'd been sitting there for several moments, relaxing and enjoying the cool caress of the rain against his bared skin, when, abruptly, there came a rustling from the other edge of the garden. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet, reflexively clasping his arms over his chest as he turned to face the intruder...and paused, relaxing slightly, as a familiar, robed figure stepped from the safety of the path, moved into the gardens with usual imperial grace.  
  
"Nuriko," said Hotohori, nodding slightly.   
  
The young emperor wore a thin sheet of some shimmering substance over his robes, and whatever it was, it seemed to repel the rain quite effectively. The violet-haired seishi watched, entranced, as the taller seishi made his way across the rain-muddied ground, his long hair tucked neatly beneath its usual decorative covering, his eyes wide and glistening in the misty air. Hotohori's cheeks were slightly flushed, and he, too, seemed a bit out of breath.  
  
Nuriko smiled. "Hotohori-sama," he acknowledged, watching as the other man moved carefully over a mass of puddles, lowered himself gracefully onto the bench beside him. He felt a tingle work its way up his spine at the sudden nearness of the man he'd longed for for so long, and turned his face away, hoping the sudden blush didn't catch Hotohori's attention...the young emperor, however, didn't seem to be paying him the slightest attention.  
  
"I've always adored the rain," he said quietly, smiling gently and gazing up into the shifting clouds. "It reminds me of my childhood, for some reason...of sitting in my room, watching the other children play from my window...watching the rain run down the glass..." He trailed off, smiling wistfully. Abruptly, he turned, cast the smaller seishi an inquisitive glance. "You never speak of your childhood, Nuriko."  
  
Nuriko paled. His voice was low. "There is...there is a reason for that, Hotohori-sama." He sighed softly, stared up at the far-off glint of the horizon. "There're things in my past I'd prefer to stay there. No...no offense of course...Heika."  
  
Hotohori was silent for a long moment. Nuriko shifted uncomfortably, feeling the other man's stare but not wanting to acknowledge it... //He doesn't care for me,\\ he told himself firmly, closing his eyes briefly against the sudden flood of emotion within him.. //He loves Miaka...he's loved her from the first moment he saw her...I'm just the only person around...of course he'd come to me, confide in me...it's cruel of him, really...but, he doesn't know, does he?\\  
  
Another moment of silence passed, then he heard a shift of cloth beside him, realized Hotohori had risen to his feet. "You're a mystery, Nuriko," the young emperor said at last, his voice low, startlingly-gentle. "I never know quite what to make of you...and now, knowing about your...secret...I feel as if I know even less."  
  
Nuriko sighed. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No...I didn't mean that you should be sorry...I just..." The violet-haired seishi glanced up, was surprised to see slight flush creeping into the young emperor's cheeks, those long, slender fingers kneading together in front of him. His voice, when he spoke, was very quiet, and his eyes stayed locked on the heavens, far-away and glistening a faint gold in the dim light. "It's a lonely life, being an emperor. I thought...when Miaka came...that she would ease the loneliness, make it bearable..." His voice sank. "That she would love me. But, she and Tamahome..." He trailed off, sighed softly. A moment later, Nuriko found those bright amber eyes focused on his face, and felt a tingle of surprise work its way through him, tremble through his already-chilled body. "I came out here because...because, I felt as if I needed to be alone...but, Nuriko...I was glad to run into you. I sometimes feel as if the only people in the world I can truly relate with and be myself with are you, Miaka, and Tamahome--and the other seishi, I'd imagine--once we find them. After all...we are equals. I'm not Saihitei, Emperor of Konan with you...I'm Hotohori. *Just* Hotohori."  
  
Something rushed through him, and he knew even as the words fled his tongue that he would regret saying them...but it was cold, he was wet and tired...and, hell, it wasn't as if Hotohori's opinion of him could sink much lower... "I wish I could find that for myself," he said quietly. "But...no one, not you or Miaka or Tamahome, knows me...or will ever know me, I think." His words began to flood forward, then, moving from his lips with such speed and passion that he had no power to stop them...nor, he found, did he want to. "To the court, I will always be Lady Kourin...to you, Miaka, and the other seishi, I'll always just be that crossdressing freak who happens to be a shichiseishi. I'll never just be ME, Hotohori-sama. No one will ever know the ME beneath these damned dresses." His voice dropped. He knew, abruptly, that he shouldn't be speaking, that he should stop while he was ahead, stop before he said something stupid...but, it was too late--the words were coming, and he couldn't stop them. "Sometimes I wonder why I was chosen. Tamahome, I can understand...you, I can certainly understand...but, me? Why me? I'm nothing more than a little boy in girl's clothing who happens to be able to lift heavy things and nearly drown Suzaku no Mikos in ponds..."  
  
Startled, Hotohori--who had been studying the smaller boy carefully as the tirade continued--reached forward, grabbed onto Nuriko's shoulders and shook him lightly. "Stop," he commanded, eyes narrowed and slightly pained. "Stop," he repeated more gently. "Don't say such things."  
  
The warm touch of the young emperor's hands on his bare, wet shoulders sent a shiver up his spine, made him tremble with sudden longing and need...he fought it, though, shrinking back from Hotohori's touch until the other man seemed to get the idea and lifted his hands, straightened where he stood.   
  
"You're shivering," he said evenly.  
  
Nuriko shrugged slightly, wrapping thin arms around himself as he tugged at the soaked cloth of his dress. It was no use, of course--the soft, silken fabric was pretty much ruined...sighing at last, he rose to his feet, took a few steps towards the path. He said nothing, knowing that if he opened his mouth again, he would most likely say something inane...so, he kept silent, feeling the weight of Hotohori's eyes on his back as he moved. He spent a brief moment pondering over the other man's attentions, more confused than ever...why did he even bother?? The young emperor loved Miaka, no one else...so, why bother being so kind? Why be so cruelly, cruelly kind?  
  
The tears were stinging at his eyes as he walked away, blurring his vision...he didn't notice the slick, shallow puddle until he felt his foot sliding out from underneath him, the ground rushing up to meet him... He hit the soggy earth hard, smashing his head and back against the ground, and lay still. His breathing was heavy and labored, a thick, enveloping darkness flickering at the edges of his vision...but, he was conscious, at least...in pain, too startled to move, and immensely embarrassed for having fallen within plain sight of the one man on the planet whose opinion he actually valued...but conscious, at least.   
  
"Nuriko! Are you all right?"  
  
He heard the thud of footsteps rushing towards him, decided that it would be better to be moving when Hotohori reached him...that, or completely knocked-out...and, since he didn't feel much like feigning sleep right now, he instead opted to try to hoist himself up off the ground. Struggling and groaning slightly in pain, Nuriko twisted his body, tried to get his hands beneath him...and paused, startled, as a flutter of stars flashed in front of his vision, left him lying dazed and stunned on his back once more, gazing up into the mottled grey of the storm clouds.   
  
Then, Hotohori was bending over him, lifting him with strong, gentle arms...and he had the sensation of moving, of being jarred slightly...and, then the world faded out for a few moments, left him cold and alone in the darkness... Suddenly, however, everything flashed back into focus, and he found himself in a new place, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, a warm hand clasped tightly over his own.  
  
"Nuriko?"  
  
It was Hotohori. Startled and still feeling a bit embarrassed, Nuriko let his eyes flutter the rest of the way open, gazed up into two thick, dark pools of liquid amber. "Hotohori-sama," he whispered dreamily. Abruptly, he remembered what had happened, felt his cheeks darkening into a blush. He'd said the name with such...such longing, such reverence...gods, he was such an idiot...  
  
Hotohori, however, didn't seem to notice. "Thank God," he murmured quietly. "I was afraid you had a concussion." Those slim fingers lifted, pressed lightly against a spot on the back of the smaller seishi's head...Nuriko winced, drawing in a sharp breath as a sting of pain lanced through him. "You must've hit it on a rock," the young emperor explained, noticing the reaction. His gaze softened, then, grew concerned. "Are you all right, Nuriko?"  
  
He nodded slightly, suddenly aware of the fact that he was dry and warm...but...but, the rain... "Hai," he murmured. Then, abruptly, his last thought connected with another, and he sat bolt upright on the small divan, eyes going wide. "Hotohori-sama!" he exclaimed, dragging the thin blankets covering his naked body tightly against his chest. "You...I...you..."  
  
Hotohori gazed at him blankly for a moment, then smiled, slightly, most likely more at the reaction than anything else. "It was necessary," he said, the hint of that smile still playing on his lips. "Your...dress was soaking wet, and you were shivering...you'd have caught a cold if I didn't do something."  
  
He laughed once, mirthlessly. "Well, I guess there's no doubt anymore as to whether or not I'm a boy or not..." He sighed, then, leaning back on the pillows and closing his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly after a moment, sighing again.   
  
"Why am I doing what?"  
  
Again, the sigh. "Helping me. You could've dropped me off with one of the palace nurses, let them care for me."  
  
Hotohori studied him for a moment. "If I had," he offered at last, "they'd have discovered your secret, Nuriko. I didn't think you'd want that to happen."  
  
"You could've put me in my own bed, then. Made sure I was all right and then left."  
  
"That would've been cruel, don't you think?"  
  
Nuriko sat up straight in the bed, a rare burst of anger flashing in the dark violet of his eyes. "What's cruel," he exclaimed angrily, "is being so kind to me when you know it's driving me insane!"  
  
Hotohori frowned. "Nuriko, I...I don't understand..."  
  
The smaller seishi sighed, lay heavily back onto the pillows and dragged his knees to his chest. "It doesn't matter," he whispered. "Thank you for taking care of me. Give me my clothes and I'll go back to my rooms."  
  
"Your clothes aren't dry yet."  
  
He sighed, pulling himself into a sitting position and letting his legs dangle over the side of the cushions until his bare feet touched the cool wood of the floor. Blanket wrapped tightly around himself, he rose, took a few steps towards the door...and staggered, a rush of dizzying stars flooding before his vision. Dimly, he felt himself falling to the side...and suddenly, there were strong arms around him, holding him up, steadying him...  
  
"Idiot," Hotohori whispered, smiling slightly. "Do you hate me so much, you would run out into the rain with a head wound and nothing but a blanket?"  
  
Too dizzy to do much more than shake his head, Nuriko let himself be led back to the divan, sat down hard on the soft cushions. Pressing a palm against his forehead, he sat for a long moment in silence, breathing heavily and listening to the gentle echoes of Hotohori's soft breathing just beside him. The young emperor knelt at the edge of the couch, gazing up at him with large, worried golden eyes...gods, how had he gotten himself into this mess?  
  
Then, finally, his vision cleared, and he felt the world coming back into focus, the darkness draining from before his eyes...he felt stronger, steadier... "It's not that I hate you," he managed, drawing a soft breath and letting it out slowly through his nostrils, the length of one hand still covering his eyes and forehead. "It's that...it seems cruel to...to tease me like this."  
  
Hotohori was frowning at him. "Tease you?"  
  
"Y...yes." He laughed once, softly, mirthlessly. "You can't possibly be that oblivious...that you don't know..."  
  
"Know what?"  
  
The young emperor's voice was soft, gentle, but confused...Nuriko marvelled at that for a moment, shaking his head slightly in his hands. Hotohori really, honestly had no idea...  
  
//Gods, I guess he IS that oblivious.\\  
  
He considered brushing off the topic again, claiming he was tired and sinking back into sleep...but, he'd come this far...and, perhaps the truth would finally make Hotohori realize just how much...how much this was hurting...how desperately he needed the other man to go away, leave him be, stop teasing him so cruelly... Sighing, he moved the hand from his eyes, stared directly into those wells of glistening amber.   
  
"That I love you," he said quietly.  
  
---  
  
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, okay...perhaps "one-shot" was a bit off...but...well, I tried! I just have too much to say. :P Anyway...er...my apologies...this is the third Nuriko/Hotohori fic I've ever written, one of which--the lengthy "And Then It Changes"--still isn't finished yet...but, that's just because it's too much fun to write. :P Anyway...er...where was I? *cough* Anyway. This isn't going to be anywhere near as deep and complex as "And Then"--this is just going to be a simple romancy/angsty fic, hopefully no more than three chapters, definitely shounen ai, possibly a bit of mild yaoi...but, hey, we'll see. Anyway...read and review...I live on this stuff...  
  
*Lyrics at the start are, by the way, from Dido's "Thank You." Originally, I'd intended on making this a songfic, but...well, I kind of lost grips on the rest of the song and the fic started going its own way, so I just gave up on the idea. :) But, hey, I thought I'd include the lyrics that started it all, anyway...that image of Nuriko sitting at the table, stirring his tea while the rain poured down the window pane... *sigh* Review! I'll dance wildly about the room and sing your praises, I promise! ^_^.  



	2. Rain - Part II

"Rain" - continued from Part I  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
[And I want to thank you  
For giving me the best day of my life  
Oh, just to be with you  
Is having the best day of my life.]  
  
  
Hotohori's breath seemed to pause in his lungs. Nuriko watched calmly, coolly, finding himself strangely displaced from the anguish he should be feeling, the fear, the horror...all he felt was a strange, numbing disbelief...because, great Suzaku, he'd actually said it. He'd actually opened his mouth and said, "I love you," to this man he'd longed for for so long.  
  
Of course, he knew what was coming. The young emperor would sputter for words for a few awkward minutes, stalk to the window, gulp in a few deep breaths, perhaps press a hand against his mouth to keep from vomiting... And, then he'd see that LOOK. He'd seen it before, of course. In the faces of the children he'd played with long ago, in a different life, when they'd seen him in the soft, flowery fabrics of his sister's dresses...yes. He remembered that look well. Disgust. Hatred. Anger, sometimes.  
  
How dare you be such a freak. How dare you even live.  
  
But...but, that was all right. If he had to be hated...if he had to be despised...even if it was by Hotohori-sama...better to let it be now, before the hope had a chance to kindle in his heart. Better it be now, before he ws forced to suffer through another moment of the young emperor fawning over Miaka.   
  
Better it be now, when the palace was still empty enough for a person's sobs to go unnoticed in the night.  
  
He waited with a strange, detached kind of patience, anticipating the cold, dark glare, the firm set of those thin lips...the disgust, smearing across the smooth, statuesque beauty of that flawless face... Nuriko braced himself for the worst, shoulders tensing, jaw clenching, gaze locked on those soft amber eyes in horrible, painstaking anticipation.  
  
Finally, Hotohori stood.  
  
A soft breath fled the violet-haired seishi's lips at the movement, but, whether it was relief or horror, he didn't know. Something had happened, at least--something had broken that long, horrible drawn-out moment of waiting...that moment strangely devoid of reaction...had time stood still, for awhile, as he stared into those glittering amber eyes and watched his hopes flicker away into nothingness?  
  
Perhaps it had.  
  
But now...now, time had flung itself into motion again, was ripping along as quickly and painfully as ever...but, at least something was happening. At least Hotohori hadn't thrown up yet. But, he WAS just...just STANDING there...staring... Gods, why didn't he SAY something?  
  
At last, unable to bear the silence any longer, Nuriko let his head droop, let a soft breath of air seep from his lips in a hiss. "You...you don't have to say anything, Hotohori-sama," he said in a low voice. I'm...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said anything."  
  
After another long moment of silence, Nuriko risked a glance up at the taller man, gazed up through a careful shield of thick, dark eyelashes...and felt a rare shimmer of hope flicker through his being, shiver down his spine...this wasn't at all what he'd been expecting... There was no hatred in that soft gaze, no anger, no irritation...not even any disgust. Hotohori was merely standing there, gazing down at him...thoughtfully. One slender finger rested gently on his smooth, slender chin, tapped lightly against the gentle curve of his jaw.   
  
Nuriko watched him for a long moment, eyes wide and round with disbelief, lips slightly parted as if trying to find the will to form words. At last, he managed to work, "H...Hotohori-sama?" from his frozen vocal chords.  
  
Slowly, Hotohori lowered the finger from his chin, let his arms lay gently at his sides. "You...love me," he said quietly.  
  
Unsure and feeling that same fear again growing within him, Nuriko nodded, just slightly...not too enthusiastically, of course...didn't want to give Hotohori anything else to be angry about...gods...what was he even doing here? He should've insisted on being taken back to his room right away, should've never even opened his mouth or spoken or even GLANCED at the young emperor... But...how often did he get the chance to be here, in the outer room of Hotohori's personal chambers, being tended to by the same gentle hands he dreamed of so often?  
  
Gods. This was wrong. Something had gone wrong in the planning of things...//Suzaku,\\ he called silently, //you goofed. I'm not supposed to be here. It's...it's too cruel.\\  
  
And then, suddenly, something touched his face. He glanced up, startled, and was shocked to find Hotohori's fingers brushing lightly against his cheek, that slender, imperial thumb stretching down to lift his chin, just slightly...just enough so the soft, reddish light of the fire swept over his features, smoothed the lines of tension from his face.   
  
And at last...Hotohori spoke. His voice was quiet, muted...even the occasional murmurs of logs being consumed by the fire threatened to drown out his words...and, so Nuriko found himself leaning forward, leaning closer, straining to hear the words that would, he knew, have the power to change his life...he sat, he listened...and still those fingers rested gently on his cheek. Still, that soft, amber-hued gaze stayed fixed on the violet-tinged depths of his own eyes.   
  
"There was always...something about you, Nuriko," he began quietly. "Something...different from all the others. Something that made me wonder about you...wonder about everything."  
  
Afraid to break the soft, almost-magical flow of the moment, Nuriko nonetheless found himself cutting through the young emperor's words, speaking against the thin sliver of hope he knew he couldn't afford to acknowledge... "Of course, I was different," he said, smiling slightly...but the smile never touched his eyes. "I was a man."  
  
"No," murmured Hotohori. "Not...not just that. It was something else. A strength. A...a fire...in your eyes. Suzaku's fire, perhaps. You...you never knew this, but..." The young emperor closed his eyes briefly, let his head sink low to his chest. "My advisors were pressing me to marry...several months ago, before Miaka came...and, so...to...to help me choose a possible bride, I dressed as a woman, sneaked into the harem." Noticing the sudden look of horror on the smaller seishi's face, he contined quickly, "I wanted to see the women for who they were, Nuriko...not for who they pretended to be. When a woman goes before the emperor, she is soft-spoken, demure, ready to serve...but, I wanted to see these women as themselves, not as...as will-less flowers curtseying and shuffling their feet and keeping their eyes lowered to the ground. I wanted to...to KNOW the woman who was going to be my wife. So, I went. I kept far to the back, kept my face covered, just watched..." His voice dropped. "And, do you know what I saw, Nuriko?"  
  
The breath seemed caught in his lungs. He shook his head, wordlessly, scarcely able to find the will to draw the air in through his lips.  
  
Hotohori smiled, then, very softly, very gently...and lowered himself down onto his knees...and, still those fingers rested lightly on his cheek...still, that amber gaze bound him tightly in place... He wondered, briefly, if his heart was still beating. If it wasn't...he didn't think he would mind at all.  
  
"I saw a group of the most unlikable, hideous beauties I'd ever seen in my life," the young emperor concluded, that slight smile still dancing over his lips. "I saw them calling each other horrible names, saw them taunting each other over their choice of clothing, their choice of makeup, their choice of hairstyle. I saw goading and fighting and speaking to each other with such immense hatred...it was unbelievable. It made me wonder if I ever wanted to take a wife at all." He paused...smiled. "And, then...I saw two women. They looked so much alike that it made me wonder if my vision hadn't somehow gone double. There were subtle differences between them, of course...but, from a distance...it was like looking at a mirror image. At first, I was sure they were twins, but soon realized they weren't...it intrigued me, of course...but most of all, I think, I was intrigued, because they didn't seem to be taking part in the name-calling and the jealousy and the hatred as the others were. They were sitting quietly in the corner, just talking...smiling...laughing. And, I thought, 'Why can't they all be like these two? Why can't they all just put aside the fact that they're competing for my hand and be friends?'   
  
"I swore then, Nuriko, that if I was forced to take a bride...if I HAD to..." His words were barely above a whisper. "That, I would take one of those two women...one of those two, and no one else...for my empress. I don't think I need to tell you that you were one of those two, Nuriko. In fact...if I'd had to choose at the time...I'd have chosen you. There was always...something about you...then, especially. And, it wasn't so much the way you were laughing and smiling...but the way you made HER laugh and smile. It was almost as if...as if every word you spoke was for her, for HER happiness...as if you truly didn't care at all for yourself, as if every moment of your life was lived...for someone else."  
  
The tears sprang to his eyes almost before he realized they were there, trickled over his cheeks in tiny, glistening rivulets. Hotohori's eyes widened at the sight of them and, reflexively, he reached up a finger, brushed away the cool, salty moisture. "Nuriko?" he asked quietly, tentatively.  
  
Nuriko drew in a shuddering breath, swept away the last of the tears with the back of his hand. "It's...it's nothing, Hotohori-sama," he managed huskily, clearing his throat against the tears. Finally, in control of himself again, he risked a glance up at the young emperor, found himself again trapped in the soft haze of that gentle amber stare. "The...the other woman...Houki...will you take her as your empress, Hotohori-sama...when the time comes?"  
  
The dark-haired seishi's face darkened, just slightly. "I'd hoped to make Miaka my empress," he murmured. "But..."  
  
Nuriko nodded. "She and...and Tamahome."  
  
"Hai. It seems even an emperor is not without his limitations. So...I don't know. Women arrive at and leave the harem constantly...perhaps this...Houki isn't even there anymore."  
  
A small, secret smile lifted at his lips. "She is," he murmured. "She's still there. And, Hotohori-sama...if you choose her..." He trailed off, closed his eyes briefly...and smiled. "I can honestly say that there's no one else in that harem I approve of you marrying more than her...or any other woman more worthy."  
  
"Then...you approve of me taking an Empress...even though you..."  
  
Flushing slightly, he nodded. "Hai. Besides...you have to take an empress. If you don't..." He let the sentence hang unfinished, shook his head slightly. "You need an heir, Hotohori-sama."  
  
Hotohori nodded slightly, taking a moment to brush a dangling strand of silken chestnut hair back from his face...then slid forward, placed on soft, gentle hand on the side of Nuriko's face...brushed lightly at the strands of violet tickling against the skin. "Still," he whispered. "There are...other alternatives to conceiving an heir...and even emperors have lovers."  
  
Nuriko's eyes went wide. "H-Hotohori-sama...what're you saying? You...I...there's...no!" Suddenly angry without quite knowing why, Nuriko gripped tightly onto the hand at his cheek, ripped it away so violently that the young emperor gasped in pain or surprise or both. And then, as Hotohori stared at him in stunned disbelief, he clutched onto the edges of the blanket, ripped it down to his lap, and let the young emperor gaze for a long moment at the flat, smooth skin of his chest. "Look at me!" he cried. "I'm a man! Don't you care? Don't you understand? I'm a man! It's cruel of you to let yourself forget that...to...to give me hope when you know you can never be with me! It's CRUEL!" His voice dropped...sank...died. "Cruel," he whispered brokenly.  
  
And, Hotohori could only stare, shaking his head slightly, and murmur a soft, "I'm sorry."  
  
No...no. The tears were coming again...gods, why did he have to do this? He'd held them so well...for so long! Always, he was strong, in-control, able to fight them, push them back...but now...now, with Hotohori so near and the touch of his fingers still warm on his cheek...it was impossible to think. He needed fresh air...needed to get out of here, find a moment alone, run away...yes...he wished he could run, like he had earlier...just drop everything and run...let the cool rain wash away his doubts, his fears, his pain... He...he had to go.  
  
"I need to get out of here," he mumbled, again hugging the blankets to his body and climbing to his feet. Hotohori let out a few words of protest, but Nuriko barely heard them...barely heard a word. He still felt dizzy, still had that throbbing pain lancing through his skull...but, he could bear it. To get out of here, to get away from Hotohori-sama and be alone and in-control again...he could do anything. If it meant being freed of this horrible curse of fear and self-doubt and anguish...he could definitely, definitely do anything.  
  
So, he stood, crossed to the door...and simply walked out. Hotohori could only watch, frowning and more confused than ever, as the smaller man staggered out into the cool, rainy afternoon...and vanished down the palace walkway. He considered rising to his feet, following...but, somehow, he sensed that Nuriko wanted to be alone, that his presence could only do harm right now...so, he stayed. He sat quietly on the floor, leaning gently against the warm spot on the cushions where Nuriko had been lying...and stared into the fire.  
  
Eternities passed before he moved again.  
  
--- 


	3. Rain - 3

"Rain" - continued from part II  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
[Push the door, I'm home at last and I'm soaking through and through  
Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you   
And even if my house falls down now, I wouldn't have a clue  
Because you're near me ]  
  
  
They were painful sobs. They ripped through his lungs, weighed heavily against the back of his throat, made it hard to breathe...and, the tears. They streaked in hot, angry lines down his cheeks, dropped in stinging puddles onto his fingers, his palms, the soft sheets of his bed.   
  
He'd had long years of practice at crying silently, at keeping the sobs welled up in his throat, of releasing them in soundless gasps against the soft cover of his pillow...but, there was no controlling this. The tears rained down with unspeakable fury, streaked over his body until every limb was stiffened and contorted in the effort of fighting the sobs, until he began to question whether or not he was actually still awake...if maybe this wasn't some strange, violent dream...gods, he wished it was.  
  
He hadn't bothered to dress himself yet, had stepped into the fragrant solace of his room, closed the door...and rushed forward, collapsed onto his bed, and succumbed to the weary, pained sobs. Now, he lay facedown on the bed, his cheeks pressed into the cool, tear-stained satin of the pillow, shaking and clutching at the edge of the bed with tensed, white-knuckled fingers. The blanket he'd taken with him from Hotohori's chambers lay bunched and twisted at his waist, part of it hanging limply over the side of the bed, exposing the gentle curve of his back, the slim, pale lengths of his legs.   
  
How did he always manage to get himself into these things? What a mess...gods, what a mess...  
  
And, now that the grief ran freely from his eyes, his lips...the memories began to trudge their way to the surface, too, to wash over him in painful, darkened waves until he pressed his face more tightly into the pillow, felt the breath hanging in his lungs and wished just that he could end the pain...gods, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. Because, it wasn't even about Hotohori anymore...it was about Korin...and about the life he led for her, the life he was now losing all grips on...the life that was slipping from his fingers, tumbling away...  
  
//If I stop being you...does that mean you're really gone, Korin?\\  
  
That thought only sent him spinning over the edge of the tears again, and Nuriko collapsed back onto the pillow, squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the storm to end.   
  
---  
  
Nuriko's room was oddly silent. Hotohori stood just outside on the palace walkway, one slim hand poised hesitantly above the door, and spent a long moment doing nothing more than frowning and listening...frowning some more and listening some more. There was no sound from within, and not even the soft rustle of movement, breath, life... He didn't know why, but the sudden overbearing silence scared him, and scared him deeply. Of course, Nuriko wasn't the kind of wo--err, man to even think about doing that sort of thing...but, gods...he'd been hurt, emotionally as well as physically, and was probably very tired...what if...what if...  
  
The breath caught in his lungs. //What if it's so quiet in there because Nuriko's...dead?\\  
  
Suddenly feeling his heart clenching in anguish and fear, Hotohori grabbed onto the knob of the door, shoved it forwards with all his strength, and stepped hurriedly into the darkened interior. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, no sound but the rhythmic patter of the rain tapping against the roof to break the suffocating silence...gods, what if he really was...was...?  
  
Gods...gods...he would never forgive himself...  
  
He glanced quickly from one side of the room to the other, straining to see clearly through the darkness...where was he...where was he... He stopped, frozen and fearful, as he caught a glimpse of a very still form lying lifelessly on the bed, one slim arm drooping limply over the edge...  
  
"Nuriko!" he breathed, rushing forward, kneeling down beside the bed and struggling to see what had happened...if Nuriko was all right...if he was alive...if there was still time to save him...if he was...if he was...sleeping?  
  
Hotohori knelt there for a long moment, staring wide-eyed at the pale, smooth skin of Nuriko's back rising and falling in gentle rhythm to his soft breathing, at the side of his face visible against the satiny puffs of the pillowcase. His features were smoothed in sleep, his lips slightly parted to make way for the soft, gentle whispers of breath.   
  
He was asleep. Not dead...not in trouble...not trying to commit suicide just because the emperor of Konan had rejected him...SLEEPING.  
  
Hotohori lowered his head, let out a soft sigh of relief. "Sleeping," he mused softly, a slim smile tugging at his lips. "Thank God."  
  
He tensed his muscles, then, preparing to rise to his feet, leave Nuriko alone to his recovery...but stopped, just before rising, and gazed down at the young seishi. The room was very dimly lit, and the world beyond the far window shadowed and darkened with the presence of the rain...but, there was enough light for him to make out the loose, wild tufts of Nuriko's hair, hanging in a mass of darkened tangles over his shoulders, spreading over the sheets like a small pool of rich, silken violet. He realized, also, that Nuriko hadn't bothered to dress himself, was lying with nothing more than the barest of blankets covering him from the waist to the middle of his thighs, leaving more exposed than was safe for the young seishi...  
  
Gods, if one of his maids walked in...or if ANYONE walked in, for that matter...they would know. Nuriko's secret would be lost, and all because he'd been too tired to cover himself...  
  
Hotohori frowned slightly. But, what could he do? Nuriko slept so peacefully, perhaps the only comfortable sleep he'd had in weeks...and, there was no way he could find some way of dressing him or even just slip a robe over his body without jarring him, waking him up. And, someone was bound to come in tomorrow morning before Nuriko awoke...he couldn't let that happen. After all, Nuriko's injury was partly his fault, wasn't it? Hai. So...he would just...stay here, keep watch on things...make sure Nuriko's secret remained untouched and unjeopardized. It was the least he could do, after the grief he'd caused...the least he could do after practically sending Nuriko running half-naked out into the rain...hai. He would stay.  
  
On impulse, Hotohori rose to his feet, bent briefly over the bed, and took the soft fabric of the sheets into his fingers. A moment later, he'd spread the sheets more fully over Nuriko's thin, sleeping body, had dragged the edge of the sheet to the boy's chin and tucked the other sides securely beneath the mattress.   
  
As he took a short step back, Nuriko shifted in his sleep, let out a low, soft sigh of air through parted lips...but, he looked more comfortable now, more at peace. Hotohori smiled soflty. Good. Gathering his robes together and positioning himself on the floor just in front of the door, the young emperor cast Nuriko one last, searching look...then, leaned his back against the wall and settled in to wait for morning.  
  
After awhile, despite his best efforts, he fell asleep, lay curled up over his robes on the floor, the soft chestnut waves of his hair washing over his face and shoulders, creating its own silken pool on the hard, well-polished wood of the floorboards.   
  
Despite the uncomfortable hardness beneath his head and back...Hotohori had never slept so well in his life.  
  
---  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gomen, gomen. I'm weary, it's almost 3 AM, and this chapter isn't the most coherent thing in the world. Ah, but I'll fix it someday when I'm feeling less like I'm about to collapse onto my keyboard, and then all will be well. *firm nod* 


End file.
